


Guilt

by orphan_account



Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Angst, Eating Disorders, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Religious Guilt, rape mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-20
Updated: 2015-03-20
Packaged: 2018-03-18 17:56:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3578634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Saturdays are Mac's days off.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Guilt

Saturdays are his days off.

He deserves this, really, deserves a break from how good he’s doing. 

He figures if he saves up all his sins for Saturday then going to church the next day cancels everything out, and that also means he only sins on one day of the week instead of the regular 7.

There’s a list of things he wrote on the back of a flyer he took from his church advertising an adult Bible study group. But he doesn’t need a group of old women and white-collar stiffs telling him how to study Scripture. He’s done fine on his own all these years, why would he need help now?  Surely if he was doing something wrong, God would smite him or like tell him what he was doing wrong.

It’s just that God doesn’t talk back. He’s never heard a big booming voice or seen the light to guide the way, all the shit he’d read and imagined vividly since he was a boy.  If stealing is wrong, why didn’t God intervene when his 9-year-old self stuffed M&Ms in his pockets at the 7-11?  Nobody noticed.  God saw, but did he do anything? The only feeling he had was that felt sorta guilty, so was that it?  Is God guilt? 

He admitted to everything he felt guilty for in confession, so maybe…

But he felt guilty for almost everything lately. Eating?  Guilt.  Relaxing?  Guilt.

He can’t possibly be doing everything in his life wrong.  He’s a good Christian; he’s made sure of that.  God can’t be guilt because he wouldn’t make him feel guilty for living, for trying to save his dad’s life, for trying to be a good friend.  Honestly, all this shit is mixing him up.

So after Sunday service, he lists out all the things he _knows_ are sins so that he can keep track, tallying every time he sins, but that gets hard after like the first week because he loses the list.  And he thinks Charlie must’ve thrown it away because it was _just_ folded on the bar’s counter top when he last saw it…

[He prays it was Charlie who threw away the list because anyone else would be able to read it, and it’d turn into a whole Thing.]

And it hits him. Everything would be so much easier if he could sin just one day of week. Get all his human impulses out so that the list becomes a checklist instead of a tally sheet. A checklist!  He’s so smart, really, how could Dennis think he’s _not_ the brains of the group…

So it’s Saturday, and he’s nearly completed the list by lunchtime. He’s doing so great. His stomach hasn’t churned all week, and today, TODAY he gets to do all this stuff that’ll be wiped clean tomorrow.   
His stomach twists when he looks at the last, still-unchecked sin on his list.

“14) Homosexuality”

_________________________________________________

It’s 8pm, and the last sin remains unaccomplished (well, he hasn’t done “2) Murder” either, but that’s like illegal and shit).  
What the fuck does he do?   
Well, he _knows_ what he has to _do_ , but like, it’s just that—it’s not like he—

He does have urges, impulses he asks forgiveness for, so is that what he does?  
Give in.   
Let himself—no he’s not _letting_ himself do anything.  He doesn’t want it; it’s just a human impulse.  He’s sure Dennis has these impulses, too, but he doesn’t act on them (for other reasons than religion obviously).

Mac doesn’t want it.  The bad, evil part of himself that he’s entertaining today wants it.  But when he—

When he imagines himself wrapped in some beefcake’s strong arms, kissing him, wanting him, he’s so—it’s so _good_ , so _right_. And it scares him. He doesn’t want anything on the list as much as he wants this, and he doesn’t think that’s how it’s supposed to go.

It’s not like how he’s thought of men taking advantage of his body against his will.   
If he does this of his own accord, if he decides to do this because he wants it, he’s sure he’ll die on the spot.  God will strike him down.

But…

God’s never struck him down, never even talked to him, so why would he start now? It’s not like out of all the sins, being gay is the worst one.  No, he’s sure murder is at least above being gay on the list. If you get caught stealing, you don’t get the same sentence as you would for being a murderer, so like God is definitely not angry at a thief as much as he is at, like, a serial killer for sure.

________________________________________________

Dee’s out for the night, he doesn’t give a shit where.

What matters is that Saturday’s almost over, and Dennis is sitting on the couch, reading glasses perched on the bridge of his nose while he flips to the next page of _Gone Girl._

“Uh.”  Mac’s just closed the door, rushing in as if he has an announcement but stalling when he sees Dennis, allowing his heart to fill up, overwhelmed.

Dennis quirks an eyebrows and draws his gaze away from his book expectantly.

“Uhhhhhhh,” there’s really no words to prepare him for what he’s about to say.

Dennis creases the page near the middle of the book and sets it down on the arm of the couch, taking off his glasses as well, “What the hell are you doing, Mac?”

Mac realizes he’s frozen mid-walk, perched forward on the balls of his feet.  He doesn’t say anything, only raises his eyebrows, moves his mouth like a goldfish, hopes Dennis just tells him to go away…

But he doesn’t.  Dennis rises from his seat, walks around the small coffee table, stops in front of Mac, arms crossed, “Are you going to tell me something?”

“I’m in love with you.”  He blurts it out with the breath he was holding. He thought he needed to explain the list, but after he’d said it, it felt like explanation enough. But Dennis isn’t responding, and he just said that awful thing for no reason and—  
  
Dennis had closed his eyes, rubbed his face as if he thought he might be dreaming, “What?”  His hands rest on his hips; his face is both inquisitive and suspicious.

“I love you, Dennis.  I love you.  I want—Dennis don’t make me say it.”

“Oh,” Dennis’ voice is low, and he’s taking one—two steps forward, “But I need to hear you say it.” 

Mac feels Dennis in his frozen space, imagines how it would be to lie against Dennis’ chest, solid, warm…He’s choking. Not actually choking. There’s just this feeling spinning in his chest, strangling him, not letting him look away like how Indiana Jones must’ve felt not looking at the Ark.

Dennis looks down at him beneath heavy lids and takes hold of Mac’s chin with thumb and forefinger, swirling his thumb softly under Mac’s lips.

“I-I can’t—I…”

He’s so close.  His vision is filled with nothing but Dennis flickering between Mac’s lips and eyes.

Mac tries to kiss him, but Dennis holds Mac in place with the fingers on his chin, “Uh-uh.  Hold on, Mac. You still haven’t said what you were going to say. What do you want?”

What does he want?

“Uhhh, I want—I want sex with you.  Sex…you.  Inside you.  You inside me—“ He’s cut off by Dennis’ lips, but he doesn’t mind.  He lets himself enjoy this.  And holy shit, he’s never felt _this_. He’s so overwhelmed with _want_ , he just keeps kissing Dennis despite the tears in his eyes, but Dennis notices.

“Dude, what the hell, why the fuck are you crying?”

Mac doesn’t care, not even sure why he’s crying, but it feels so good.  
“Don’t stop, Dennis. Please, don’t stop, there’s not much time” he kisses him again, hands not believing the places they’re finally allowed to touch.

Whether Dennis thinks this is referring to Dee, or he just doesn’t care what the fuck Mac’s saying, he continues to unravel him, leaving pieces of the both of them on the floor as they undress and cross into the bedroom.

______________________________________________

Mac wakes up happier than he’s been maybe in his life.

The shadows of the blinds cut up everything, half-revealing the sleeping Dennis curled into him. 

He lies there.  6:00am.  Sunday morning. 

Maybe…

He decides that it’s not officially Sunday until church starts, but after that he has to wait.  He’ll tell Dennis later, after confession, about the whole plan. It’s not like they can’t be together. No.  They just can’t be together 6 days out of the week.

He’ll just have to shove everything back behind the dam that had burst last night, that’s all.

But for now, Dennis’ head is gentle in the crook of his neck, and Mac can breathe.


End file.
